


Bloodied Bodies Aren't Roses

by TwilightRealmWolf



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe-Grand Theft Auto, Fake AH Crew, Guns, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Violence, backstories, bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightRealmWolf/pseuds/TwilightRealmWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fake AH Crew were notorious for many things- from explosions that brought forth immeasurable chaos to heists that were done with nothing less than the utmost amount of glitz and glamour. But they were known for something much more than any of that:</p><p>Their marksmen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodied Bodies Aren't Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one sentence prompt request given to me on Tumblr, which was none other than "You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen."  
> Needless to say, I kinda went overboard.  
> Whatever.  
> Trigger Warning for Violence and Dead Bodies

The Fake AH Crew were notorious for many things- from explosions that brought forth immeasurable chaos to heists that were done with nothing less than the utmost amount of glitz and glamour.

Though, there was another thing that they were known for.

When it came to crews, many had their own ways of setting themselves out of the mundane sea of corruption and misdeed that consumed Los Santos. For some, it was weapons and arsenal while for others it was as simple as money. After all, money talks, especially in this town. Now, even though it sounds as if the Fake AH Crew possessed all of these assets, they still had something else that set them apart- something else that raised them above the tallest line of crime the city had to offer.

Their marksmen.

It’s always good when a crew includes a man who is known purely for his hand with a blade, for his steady but deadly grip on the trigger of any gun, but when they are gifted with not only one, but _two_ , the game of crime is changed.

Ryan Haywood had been brought up well in rural Georgia, which was one of the most surprising elements of his character. When he had been growing up, he hadn’t much other choice than to try his hand with the weapons at his disposal for nothing but simply a cure for his boredom whilst the corn rustled in the wind and the cotton sat stagnant in their perfect linear order.

First he had begun with a small knife that he had found in the kitchen drawer one day. He had never noticed it in the past, as it had fallen behind the wooden box that they used to organize their silverware, and when he found it by accident- nearly slicing his fingers in the process- he figured that it wouldn’t be missed in the slightest. He had pocketed the blade and carried it in his large jean pockets throughout the day as he did his work tending to the crops and sweeping the barn.

Though, once all the work had been completed, he snuck off to the hay storage in the back of the large barn and set up a few bales and a sack of corn strategically. In the days and weeks and even months following that one day of boredom, Ryan constantly found himself returning to the makeshift battlegrounds arranged behind the barn, somehow finding peace and solace with each slice of the knife through the burlap sack of the dried kernels. Eventually the bag had been torn to shreds in the center, as Ryan’s aim had been so impeccable that he could never fail with any toss of the blade.

It hadn’t been long before Ryan had become bored with the small dagger and began scavenging for something else all around the property that his family owned. In the dark, straw-riddled loft of the barn, Ryan had found a crossbow and a regular 7mm pistol which had been stashed away after his father had given up hunting and shooting. Since his father was very opposed to the weapons and their intent of bloodshed, Ryan was very limited to practicing when his dad and mom were both off in the far corners of the fields doing their daily crop tending. Though, it wasn’t a surprise that even with such small allotted practice time Ryan had become an ace shot.

As it turned out, ace gunmanship was a good trait to possess as Ryan continued on with his life past the farm and the ordinary suburbs of Georgia.

However, on the other hand, Ray Narvaez Jr. had been brought up very differently. Born in the shambles of Southern Los Santos, near Grove Street, which had always been known for it’s rather large amount of robberies and hit and runs, Ray had been numbed to the thought and sight of death from the small age of five. To many, it was a large red flag that waved in the disturbed winds, but to him, he payed no mind, uncaring to the troubled thoughts that others possessed about his mental state and his living affairs.

With the large amount of crime that ran rampant through his homeland especially, Ray hadn’t ever really had a choice when it came to self defence in the form of metal weaponry. When he was ten, Ray had always carried a small can of pepper spray in his hoodie and a switchblade in his jean pocket, always prepared for anything if the need for that level of defence arose. Since he lived in this area of the city, the need for defence of that magnitude arose more than anyone had ever truly considered.

Originally, he had been very adept to using only hand to hand combat, but he had quickly realized that hand to hand was only useful when there were only one or two guys giving him a hard time, but when there were three or more, he found himself with a face full of asphalt more times than not. So, once he’d obtained the knife, he’d began practicing on the singular tree that sat in the grassy area on the edge of the LS canal that ran directly behind his house. He hacked and slashed at the tree, gradually moving up from basic stab move to more elaborate moves, such as rolls and spins that could help him dodge in the event that the other party carried a weapon that could do himself significant damage. Though, he’d only used the knife a few times before he’d stolen a gun.

No, he had not robbed the local Ammunation, he had not broken into someones house and had taken the weapon as they slept. It had been a late night, the sun had set a long time ago and the moon had since risen high in the sky. Ray, the simple age of twelve, walked down the shady Grove Street in the direction of the small convenient store that laid at the intersection of the bridge, in search of nothing more than a soda and a way to pass the time. He’d been in and out quickly, grabbing a cup and filling it quickly with mountain dew before slapping down the exact change on the cashier's counter and shuffling out the squeaky glass doors. The only light that lit Ray’s path home were the lights of the gas station and two flickering street lamps onwards down the street. He began walking at a leisurely pace, in no particular hurry to get back to the small confines of his house.

Though, as he sipped at his drink and started down the street, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder which caused him to whip around, letting his cup clatter to the pavement, liquid spilling out quickly. As he whipped his entire body around to glare his attacker in the eyes, he grabbed the attackers arm and twisted, a strained sound of pain filling the air around the two. In one fluid motion, Ray pulled out his knife and held it to the man’s temple, looking around the dimly lit street in search of any other potential threats. With a sweep of his eyes, he saw none, but the true threat came from the man held in his grasp, who quickly took advantage of the distracted boy by kicking a leg beneath Ray’s unsteady footing, sending him colliding into the ground, his switchblade falling from his grasp and clattering across the asphalt.

Quickly reacting, Ray kicked the man in the knees, sending the man towering above him sailing to the ground not even a foot away from his small body. He frantically shuffled quickly towards his knife, the heels of his hands beginning to be rubbed raw as he crawled. Though, as he closed his right hand around the hilt of the blade, a large booted foot came down on the top of his hand, and Ray yelled out as he felt his bones shift in his hand, causing him to release the knife.

With a pained look, Ray whipped his head up to glare at the man, but his eyes were only met with the barrel of a 7mm pistol. Ray remained still, not flinching away from the gun pointed directly into his skull, never breaking the eye contact that he held with his attacker. He saw the man’s eyes flash with anger as his finger tightened around the trigger, and Ray shut his eyes as he heard a deafening gunshot ring throughout the atmosphere surrounding him. Though, as Ray felt a heavy weight come crumbling down atop of his small body, he opened his eyes and locked eyes with another pair of eyes- a hooded figure stood shrouded in darkness with a gun held in the exact place where his merciless attacker had once stood with a gun pointed at Ray’s face.

Ray continued to watch the figure as they quickly spun around and began walking off down the street, never sparing a second glance in Ray’s direction as they turned to start walking off down an alley. Ray never removed his gaze on the figure, and only removed his eyes when they disappeared from view. Once the figure was gone, he looked down at the body that lay limp and lifeless on top of him, his face expressionless, and he used his legs to kick the body off of him. Once he was free, Ray stood up, looking around before his eyes landed on the abandoned 7mm that his attacker had previously had aimed at his face. He bent down, wrapping his hand around the grip of the gun, turning it in his hands before pocketing it and setting off towards home.

The two men were very different, that was quite obvious. Though, they only appeared to be different in their youth years. In the present, they were nearly one in the same, both working hand in hand to get the crew jobs done to perfection at the will of their boss, Geoff Ramsey. They worked alongside others- their crewmates, their friends, their family- and they somehow managed to feel at home in the sea of ill-fated crime that ravaged Los Santos.

And yet, somehow they had even managed to find love within all the blood and gore.

“Ray! I need you to shoot these cops that are trailing us!” Ryan yelled, pulling Ray from his deep thoughts. All around them there were sirens, loud enough to pierce any mans ear drums and drive him to the brink of insanity just before shoving him over the edge. The two men sat on Ryan’s motorcycle which was rushing through the streets of Los Santos, dodging cars, trucks, bullets, and Ray was pretty sure that Ryan had run into a BMX biker once. What that man had been doing out for a casual ride, Ray had no idea, but he did know that the man was fucking crazy and nothing less. Also most likely dead. Ray’s body was pressed up against Ryan’s as they rode, his arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend’s chest to ensure stability.

Turning his head to look behind them at the multitude of cops that trailed them, Ray surveyed the area, quickly attempting to figure out a way to take them out swiftly. Though, as he saw none, Ray shouted to Ryan through the shared crew earpiece.

“I can’t get a clear shot the way that I’m facing, I need to take them head on!” Ray yelled, attempting to make himself heard over the loud screams of the sirens.

“Figure it out, you’re smart!” Ryan called back as he whipped his motorcycle around a corner quickly. Glancing back one last time, Ray shook his head before standing up on the motorbikes passenger foot grips, his thoughts running rampant as he hoped not to collide with the pavement that would lead to his imminent demise. He heard Ryan make a sound of startled confusion as Ray swung his legs around Ryan’s front, straddling his body as he whipped out dual SMG’s. With his new direction faced directly at the pursuing cops, Ray fired with precision, taking out the cops swiftly as Ryan weaved in and out of the complex alley systems that Los Santos possessed. He remained in this position for many minutes after the coast had presumably been cleared, keeping his ears focused on the sound of any sirens that could make an appearance.

After more than five minutes of nothing, Ryan began to slow down, his maneuvers on his bike becoming less erratic and more steadily paced. The only sound over the crew earpieces was heavy breathing for many minutes, but after awhile, Michael’s voice rang out.

“Me and Gavin are clear- what about the rest of you?”

“Me and Ray are fine, haven’t heard any cops in more than five minutes,” Ryan answered, his voice controlled. Ray affirmed his statement with a quick ‘yeah’ mumbled into the mic and nothing more.

“Me and Jack have been fine, helicopter getaway was easier than expected.” Geoff announces, relief in his voice that his crew was all confirmed to be alive and as well as they could be.

“I’m going back to the warehouse to drop Gavin off so that he can get his car and go back to his apartment, then I’m going home for the night. I’ll make sure no ones tailing me before I go inside or remove my mask,” Michael declares, his statement sincere and pointed.

“Got it, check in when both of you are home,” Geoff asks, and the two men make a sound of confirmation before their ends of the line go silent.

“I’m just going to go back to our apartment and drop Ray off, then I’ll go back to the warehouse to hide Ray’s adder. Then we’re in for the night,” Ryan says, beginning to drive his bike in the direction of their shared penthouse apartment. Geoff simply made a sound of acknowledgement before his and Jack’s mics went silent, Ray and Ryan’s swiftly following suit. The two rode in silence for awhile until Ryan’s bike slowed to a stop in front of their penthouse apartment that stood in the luxurious Vinewood hills, looking out over the city that they knew as their playground.

Once stopped completely, Ray leaned up and straightened his back, looking directly into Ryan’s eyes with a small smile before throwing one leg over Ryan’s lap in order to dismount the motorbike and his boyfriend simultaneously. Once off, Ray secured his guns to his back before giving a quick little flick of his wrist as a wry ‘see ‘ya’ before winking and heading inside. Ryan watched him go, the cocky swing of the younger's hips pulling him into a trance that he was sure Ray knew of without even sparing him a look back. Once Ray had entered the apartment, he heard the sound of Ryan’s bike roaring to life and speeding off down the hills of Vinewood.

He took the exclusive elevator that went straight up and into the penthouse suite, entering the apartment quickly, throwing his pink guns onto the modern white blocky sectional couch before shuffling off towards their shared bedroom. As he walked, he stripped off items of clothing, such as his hoodie, his bulletproof vest, his earpiece and his bloodied jeans. Once he reached the bed, he flopped down as ungracefully as he could, not having the chance to think about texting Ryan something inappropriate before he fell asleep.

**XxXxXxX**

The light streaming in from the curtains that Ray had forgotten to close last night in his sleepy daze awoke him slowly, much to his disapproval. He made a loud groan to accurately vocalize his anger as he threw his arm over to the other side of the bed, expecting a collision with a warm body, but only groaned louder when all his hand hit were the cold sheets of Ryan’s side of the bed. Forcing his eyes shut to clear the sleep from his eyes, Ray sat up and looked around the large bedroom for any traces of Ryan. Clearly he had come home the night before after Ray had fallen asleep, as his black and blue leather jacket was strewn over a green chair that sat in front of their closet, and his bloodied and bullet-ridden vest sat on the floor beneath it. Ray made another disgruntled sound before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up slowly and setting off towards the kitchen for some cereal.

He whipped the black wooden door open quickly, padding down the hallway at a sleepy pace, his bare feet making small sounds as they collided with the wood floors. He approached the kitchen while looking around the rest of the apartment for any other traces of Ryan or Ryan himself. He saw his guns on the coffee table, but nothing more than that.  Ray shrugged before walking into the kitchen, his eyes focused on the cabinet where they kept their large stash of cereals. Though, as we walked, he payed no attention to the floor below him, and he yelled out as he tripped over something large and unmoving.

“What the fuck?” Ray yelled out in surprise, whipping around to look at what he had tripped over. At first, he had surprise written on his face, but once he saw what the object truly was, his expression morphed into one that could only be described as smug. He didn’t remove his eyes from the object that had interfered his walking pattern as Ryan came rushing into the room, his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist loosely, as well as a 7mm pistol firmly held in his hands.

“What happened, is there someone here?” Ryan demanded, his voice dark and concerned. Ryan looked around the apartment quickly before settling on Ray’s face, which only had a smirk on it as he looked directly at Ray.

“What?” Ryan says, lowering the pistol. He watches Ray as he laughs quietly at first, but his laughter slowly grew louder as his smile widened. Ray simply just pointed down at the disturbance that sat at his feet, which was none other than a dead body.

“What the fuck is this, Rye?” Ray manages to get out in between bouts of laughter. Ryan looks at Ray and smiles, unable to help himself. His boyfriends laughter was nothing but infectious, as was his smile.

“I got this for you!” Ryan exclaims, gesturing to the body sat at their feet with a proud smile on his face.

“Why though?”

“Because!” Ryan exclaims, offering no explanation until Ray just stares at him blankly, clearly waiting for an explanation that hadn’t come yet.

“This was the BMX biker that you’d laughed at! You said he was super dumb and he’d probably end up dead somewhere ridiculous.”

“So... you brought him here?” Ray asks, amusement in his voice.

“Well...yeah, I guess so,” Ryan shrugs before adding “I thought it’d be funny and you’d appreciate it.”

Ray laughs and leans over the dead biker that lay on their floor, leaning in to pull his boyfriend in for a passionate kiss. Leaning over a dead body wasn’t exactly the dream setting for a romantic exchange with his boyfriend, but hey, who was Ray to complain.

They continued for awhile before Ray pulled away from Ryan, licking his lips and regaining his breath which Ryan always seemed to manage to take away. The two stared at each other for what seemed like hours, but when it was only in fact a few seconds. Ray broke the comfortable silence first.

“I love it, and I love you,” Ray says, leaning back over the body to pinch Ryan’s cheek affectionately before continuing, “But you really gotta stop leaving bodies in our kitchen, man.”

Ryan laughs quickly before speaking up.

“Hey, there was only one other time!”

“Yes, and it was romantic, but seriously, you could just get me flowers or something for fucks sake.”

Ryan considered for a moment in silence, then shook his head and leaned in close to Ray again.

“Nah, flowers aren’t as romantic as bodies.”

Ray whoops loudly before closing the distance between the two of them, kissing Ryan passionately. Ryan stepped slightly closer in order to deepen the kiss, but Ray pulled back quickly.

“Okay, as nice as the gift was, I don’t think having sex on top of it is exactly the best decision.”

Ryan howls a loud laugh before grabbing for Ray’s hand, intertwining their fingers as he drags him off towards their shared bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind them as they went.


End file.
